I Can Be Still With You
by Zoggerific
Summary: I always feel like I have to move. But with you, I can be still. Thrown together by chance, Sonic and Amy make an unlikely couple but soon they will discover that their fates are intertwined in their quest to bring down Robotnik's Empire. A SonAmy tale set in the SATAM universe. Now edited by AmyRoseThePinkHedgehog and Angel of the Axis
1. Holding Still

"Now, what you have here is gasoline," the Freedom Fighters watched intently as Rotor, Knothole's resident mechanic, gestured to a small tub of yellowish liquid resting on the car hood. "I'm assuming all of you have seen gas before? Good, because you don't want to confuse it with this," Rotor's waved his hand at another small tub, this one containing a brown, oily liquid. "This is what we call diesel. You do not want to confuse it, or mix it, with gasoline."

"Why? What happens?" Amy asked

"If you put diesel in a gas engine, nothing. Darn thing won't start. You put gas in a diesel engine however, it'll start, but it won't run well, and then stop altogether. This is why it's important you smell it." The freedom fighter exchanged glances hesitantly, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

The Freedom Fighters began reluctantly leaning over the tub in turn. "So, what does it smell like?" Rotor asked.

"Like, Gas," Sonic answered, wrinkling his nose. Amy voiced her agreement.

Rotor rolled his eyes, "Thank you for that apt description. Now smell the diesel." Amy leaned over the tub and sniffed, regretting it instantly.

"Ugh, that's awful," Amy complained, shrinking back for the invading stench.

Sonic gave an experimental sniff and recoiled immediately, "Yeah, it is."

"Another way you can tell the difference," Rotor said, continuing the lesson, "Is colour. Gas is usually yellow or green, diesel tends to be light brown or dyed red, and thicker than gas is. Furthermore, do you notice the fumes coming off the gas?"

Amy examined the first can, "Diesel doesn't have that," she realized.

"Yup, that's why we keep 'em in these," Rotor picked up the gas can. "You want to keep those vapours from escaping. It's why the gas cans are airtight," he brought a pair of cans into view, "and this here is fuel stabilizer. There are different ones for gas and diesel, so pay attention to the labels. Especially since they also tell you how much to use."

"Use for what?"

"For keeping the gas for going bad," explained Rotor.

"Gas can… spoil?" Amy asked.

"Over time, gas oxidizes and goes sour, that's why you need to keep it stored right. Bad gas doesn't burn well, if at all."

"But the stabilizer fixes that?" Amy inquired.

"It can prevent good gas from going bad, but it won't fix it," Rotor confirmed. "Also, even if you take care of it, eventually it just goes south. Kinda like food really."

"So, how long until all the gas goes bad for good?"

Rotor drew a breath and scratched his head before turning back to Amy. "Couple of years for the gasoline, soon we won't be able to use the motorcycles anymore. They're giving such terrible mileage already. Diesel, which is less refined, can potentially go for over a decade, but we would need to reconfigure the engines which is a whole other challenge."

"Unless we start stealing it from Eggman," Amy added.

"Or that. Now," Rotor exclaimed, picking up a piece of clear tubing connected by a bulge, "This here's a syphon. Run it into a gas tank and squeeze the pump here in the middle to get things going. Make sure you put the right end in or you'll just be blowing air into the gas tank."

"Why clear tubes?" Amy asked

"So that you can see the gas coming, hopefully giving yourself enough of a head start to avoid getting a mouthful of it," Rotor gestured to a jack sitting by the car. "Go ahead, jack it up."

"Me? I'm not strong enough to do that."

"Ah, I can help," Bunnie, a cyborg rabbit, volunteered. She strode forward and began bracing her mechanical limbs on the ground, acting much like a jack and raising the car up on its side.

"Wow," Amy gasped, awestruck at the sight.

"Okay, Bunnie that's enough." Bunnie took a couple of deep breaths and wiped the sweat from her brow while Amy watched, surprised at how high the back end of the car was off the ground.

"Now, this ain't exactly rocket science," Rotor said as he knelt down by the back of the vehicle. "Gas goes in there and comes down here," Rotor gestured to the car's underside. "So, just poke a hole in the tank to syphon the gas," Rotor handed Amy a long screwdriver and a hammer.

"Um, isn't this dangerous?" Amy asked as she positioned herself under the gas tank. "Couldn't the gas tank, like, blow up?"

"Well, what isn't these days?" the worst that can happen is accidentally striking a spark with the screwdriver, but with these non-sparking screwdrivers, probably not," Rotor shrugged. Not very reassured, Amy hammered in the screwdriver.

"See, no big deal. It probably helps that it's all rusted up. Just put the screwdriver in your pocket for now, we're gonna need it for the next lesson," Rotor instructed, taking the hammer back.

"What's the next lesson?"

"Everything else you need to know about taking care of a bike," Rotor led Amy over to a bike with its engine exposed. "Now, fuel is drawn into these chambers, spark plug makes a spark, ignites the vapours, and that's what drives the pistons. If it's a diesel engine, which it ain't, there won't be a spark plug-"

"Because diesel doesn't have vapours!"

Rotor smirked, "That's right. On a diesel engine, air is pulled into the chamber, then compressed, which superheats it. Then, the diesel is injected right into the compressed air, and that ignites it." Amy rammed the key into the ignition; the engine groaned and struggled, but finally rumbled to life.

* * *

When Sally wrenched open the tarp, she found Sonic sitting on a motorcycle saddle with a girl on his lap. Amy shrieked and slid off her significant other, far enough away that she couldn't be grabbed. So, Sally grabbed Sonic and shook him instead. Sonic merely leaned back and tugged his baseball cap over his eyes.

Sally yanked the cap off and shoved it against his chest, "Tell me you at least cleared the road to town as I told you?"

"Sure I did."

As the trio rode along, a low buzzing drone filled the sky and Sally immediately pulled over to the side, slamming hard on the brakes to avoid striking a rusted-out hulk on the road, partially hidden by a falling tree. She rubbed at her temples, ready to take-off at top speed as soon as they were spotted by the drone. But their luck held and the drone continued its pre-programmed flight path.

"I know you're stressed," Sonic protested, "but try not to get us killed."

Sally blinked several times and shook her head tiredly, "I've barely slept this week."

Sonic adjusted his hat, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive?"

She glanced sidelong at him as she set the bike in neutral, "I'm the one with the license here."

"C'mon, I've ridden this bike before!"

"Down a clear, empty stretch of road at walking pace. You haven't driven it in town. Just hush, will you?" She ordered and resumed their journey. They took long winding paths that morphed from pavement to gravel, then to the dirt trails of the Great Forest. After many protests, the bike, at long last, brought them to the craggy paths that would take them home.

"Five years," Sally muttered, "Five years since the coup and you lot think this is all make-believe."

* * *

Under Princess Sally Acorn's close supervision, Knothole changed. Children had formerly spent almost all their time playing, now, they worked.

Because all the children of Knothole had never needed to do any upkeep, they had known little of maintenance. Consequently, Knothole had gone to seed. Plaster was cracking from the ceilings, the thatched roof huts had gone to chaff, stucco was crumbling off the walls, and zinc roof tiles were falling from the roofs of the children's homes.

Rotor was placed in charge of clean-up and repairs, for which he enlisted the help of Tails, whose nascent talent of flight proved an unexpected boon. Restoration, however, was not the sole objective in the walrus's mind, as he looked into the possibility of surrounding the village with a stone wall and moat.

Bunnie had gathered up the baubles within the former Royal Retreat and traded some of them for seeds and farming implements. With her advice and encouragement, city dwellers, used to cushy lives within Mobotropolis, now worked as farmhands and labourers. The able-bodied pulled ploughs to till the field, while the rest sowed seeds, struggling hard to make up for lost time.

Bunnie's massive project had yet to bear fruit, so the rest of her friends had to gather supplies to tide the settlement over. The Freedom Fighters responsible for heading out on supply runs made regular early-morning treks to where the elderly Tig stripes made his hermitage. The retired colonel had agreed to help them hone their fighting skills, though it was unclear if he was aware of it. He reacted with genuine surprise each morning when he opened his door to find several enthusiastic Freedom Fighters awaiting their lessons.

This was how the children found themselves standing in rows in the meadow and imitating thrusts with broomsticks. Rotor had complained that he lacked the dexterity for the task, Antoine fought with a great deal of zest and zeal, but without much in the way of discipline. Geoffrey St. John, the former military cadet, had, to no one's surprise, showed a great deal of aptitude. He insisted that it was the easiest thing in the world, merely a matter of directing the spear tip at the correct velocity.

Sonic spent most of his time in the groundskeeper shed on the furthest end of the valley. Prior to Robotnik's coup d'état, it was the home of Knothole's caretaker, but Rotor had converted it into his residence and workshop.

Sonic claimed he was trying to restore the electric fence, but that was only a pretence. Really, he just wanted to tinker with the hissing, bubbling machines, and get away from the wave of dreariness that seemed to have swept over his friends. Rotor, restless by nature, and just as eager as Sonic to escape, seemed to the colonel's disapproving glare, frequently joined him. Tails, who was too young to be concerned by the worries of the others, and eager to follow his blue hero, found himself developing a keen interest in all things mechanical. Together, the trio soon had the power generators up and running again.

The enthusiastic hedgehog found himself running out of things to do, but upon coming across Rotor's rather extensive collection of model trains he soon set up a miniature track that snaked its way around the floor and up the walls. It passed through every part of the workshop, delivering tools or messages to his buddies while they worked in different rooms.

Sonic was alone at the workshop today, Nonetheless, he started the model train as usual. Out on the back porch, with a mask over his face, and heavy gloves on his hand, he was in the process of stick welding a cracked boiler that had provided hot water for the village. A sizeable supply of coal was leftover in the basement, and if Sonic could get the boiler running properly again, he could soon be able to restore hot water for his friends.

Sparks bounces onto Sonic's mask and apron. The acrid smell of ozone filled his nose, and sweat ran freely down his face to sting his eyes. He shook his head, clearing the urge to call it quits. He knew a little welding from living with his famed uncle, Sir Charles the Hedgehog. His parents, Jules and Bernadette Hedgehog, had hoped through some hitherto unknown form of osmosis, that his uncle would impart some academic inclination into the recalcitrant hedgehog. In this, they were left sorely disappointed, but Sonic did learn a thing or two, and for several tense seconds, the weld was his world.

As he worked, something coarse slid up the back of his neck. Afraid he was being probed by some blood-sucking insect, he snapped off the electrode, leapt up, and swatted wildly at the air, only to hear a wild, high pitched laugh behind him. Yanking off his mask he spun to find Amy Rose rolling on her back and giggling.

"Ames!"

"She stopped laughing and gazed up at him, "Did I surprise you?"

"Don't you know that's dangerous? I could have burned myself! Or you could've gotten sparks in your eyes!" Sonic shut down the diesel motor for the welding electrode and slung off his apron. He mopped at his forehead in a vain attempt to clear his brow, slick with sweat.

"Aren't you supposed to be training with the others?"

Amy flopped down on the floor again. "Don't wanna."

"I don't blame you."

"Realizing he still had his welding gloves in his hands, he tossed them to the floor. Odd, Sonic knew his mother would have had a conniption if she had caught him welding without supervision. But here in Knothole that hadn't even crossed his mind. With a twinge of sadness, he realized that he was already doing a whole host of other things here that were much more dangerous than welding.

"I miss the days when we could just, you know, hang out."

"You get to hang out with the rest of the guys though, building new stuff," Amy pouted, "That's much more fun than going through the same motions day in and day out."

"Nah, it isn't me. Rotor's the smart cookie. I'm just the glorified delivery boy. If he wants the spanner, screwdriver, discombobulator, or that little flashlight he keeps losing, then I'm the hog for the job," Sonic leaned back against the boiler and stared up into the bright afternoon sky. "I don't even know what to do with most of the things in here."

Amy pursed her lips and beamed widely.

"He's probably gonna be mad that I'm working on the boiler without them, but he has his hands full already. It's actually pretty boring here," Sonic stamped his sneakers on the floor, "Oh wait! We did find something interesting," he exclaimed, "We actually got a hold of an ol' airframe with an engine. My lil buddy sure is all for a plane. He thinks if we scrounge for some parts, we might actually get airborne!"

Still on her back, Amy stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry, "All he cares about is flying!" she turned over on her side and fluttered her eyes as if she were planning to take a nap.

"Well, yeah, but think how handy it might be to wrest the skies back from Buttnik," Sonic defended Tails. "The main problem, though, is that we don't have enough silk for the frame. I swiped a few of those mouldy old dresses from the masquerade, but that's still not enough."

Amy blew another raspberry, but Sonic could see she had a smile on her face. He paused a moment longer, but then obligingly slid toward her and ran his hand along the fur on her belly. She sighed in contentment and took to wiggling her legs while humming tunelessly.

After a minute, Sonic whispered, "I don't think I like it here anymore."

Amy stopped humming She opened her eyes and raised her head, "You still like me, don't you?"

"Of course. But, I mean, it's not fun. Not like it used to be."

"I know what you mean. I don't wanna fight, an' I don't wanna work. I want to play. C'\mon Sonic," Amy rolled over and rose to her feet.

"Where are we going?" Sonic asked.

"Don't know. Someplace fun. Rotor says he might've found a way to keep our ice cream supply going. We can go there!"

"We have ice cream though."

"But for that, we've gotta go back, an' then we gotta see Sal!"

The hedgehog facepalmed, "I forgot about that."

Amy stuck out her tongue again and rolled her eyes. "I know a guy who knows a guy. Let's go there. He'll have ice cream," Amy twirled, "got your camera, Sonic?"

"Yup," he answered, before pulling said object out of his satchel and slinging it around his neck.

"Good!" Amy pranced out of Rotor's workshop and into the yard, opening her arms wide to be swept off her feet by her ravishing knight in blue. Sonic's stomach lurched as he swept her up bridal style. And then, he was picking up speed and letting the wind whip around the two of them.

XXX

Knothole, green and lush, stretched out below. Sonic could just make out where their home stood amongst the foliage. Sonic gently lifted the camera over his left eye: through the magnification, he could barely make out the workshop where he and Tails had spent many countless hours playing together. It was barely visible as a hint of brown amid a sea of brilliant green.

Sonic snapped a picture before lying beside his soulmate.

He could feel his heart pounding hard and slow against her bosom. His insides were knotted up with a new and unknown sensation, at once both painful and pleasant. The pair lay on a grassy hilltop outside the picturesque village. Near their heads sat a picnic basket, beside it was two tin dishes that had formerly held meat pies. Beside the empty tins lay a dish of half-eaten pastries, a nearly destroyed wheel of cheese, and several empty bottles.

"I'm bored," Amy giggled, "What's next?"

"How about you watch the clouds? Look at that one there," He put an arm over her shoulder and pointed at a white tuft near the horizon. "It looks kind of like a peacock. Wait, no, more like a turkey, maybe? Just stare at it, okay?"

Amy jumped up with a slight frown, "Okay, but it's kind of hard to get in the cloud-gazing mood-"

"Just stand there. Hold still and tell me what it looks like. Don't take your eyes off it."

Amy spread her feet, set her shoulders, and opened her eyes wide, furrowed her brow, and, promptly snorted.

"The cloud. Focus on the cloud."

"It looks like a meadowlark," she commented, before settling down listlessly beside her beau. "I could live like this forever," Amy said dreamily.

"Not forever," Sonic answered, "I had to take Hamlin's watch just to get all this food."

Amy giggled, "Stop, please. Let's just enjoy the afternoon." Amy stood and cartwheeled. Once upright she formed a cone with her hands and squinted at the village, now seemingly so far and unimportant to the infatuated girl. "I don't want to be a soldier," She said, "But Geoffrey's going to make me."

"We could always use more Freedom Fighters, ya know."

Amy shook her head, "Let's find another Knothole, Sonic. You, and me, and Tails," Amy suggested.

"I can't stay like this forever," he sighed, "Sal gets worried when I'm gone all the time. We could only do stuff like this on the weekends?" He suggested

"The Freedom fighting stuff?"

"Yeah, battling old Buttnik," Sonic looked out and commented, "It's good that Sal is here to integrate the newcomers. I wouldn't have gotten away from my new fans otherwise."

Amy ignored the change in subject, "Sounds like serious stuff," she replied, before bounding like a gazelle towards the stupefied hedgehog. The fleet-footed Freedom Fighter lost his balance, his insides lurched as he slid off the side of the gently sloping hill, only for Amy to wrap her arms around his ankles and arrest the slide.

He gasped, "Sal would kill me if-"

He sucked in a breath as Amy rolled on a soft meadow that glistened with moisture. Sonic buried his face amid her thick forest of pink quills. He could hear Amy whispering, her voice barely audible above the zephyr whistling past his ears.

"I always feel like I have to move," she said, "I can't hold still. If I sit down for too long, or if I try to watch something too long, I get all twisted up inside. I want up. I want to run around. I tried to watch a ladybug climb a blade of grass once, but I couldn't do it. I yelled, 'Too slow!' and I jumped up, took the ladybug in my hand, and threw her into the air so she'd fly. Everyone's too quiet, too slow. Everything is," she paused, "Except you," her voice went even lower. "I feel like I can hold still and be quiet when I'm with you."


	2. Hidden Depths

**Hidden Depths**

Sonic hadn't expected much when Amy had come into his life. At first, he had found her stalking behaviour irksome but lately, a change had come. Sonic still couldn't say that he was happy with her but all the same couldn't deny that he hadn't been as lonely. Amy had filled that void, gave him somebody to spend time with, to talk to and made him realize with a certain clarity that he hadn't thought about his parents or uncle for almost two days.

"Something wrong?" Amy asked, upon noticing the sudden change in her significant other. He shook his head, quills bristling as he did so.

"Nothing easy to fix," I said. "But yeah. Let's stop by Sal and I'll tell her we're having a sleepover."

He would tell her, he decided. None of this 'asking' nonsense. He was going to make it clear to Sally that he intended to stay elsewhere for the night, and if he was needed Sally would know where to find him. His mental assertion of independence would have felt a lot better if it were for something other than a sleepover with Amy and her roommate Cream.

Much to his surprise, Sally had given in to the whole sleepover idea with a lot less resistance than Sonic had expected. If he were being perfectly honest with himself it felt a lot like having a rug yanked out from under him when Sally smiled, nodded and told him to behave himself.

When Sonic had at last came to his admirer's bedroom, he found it almost plain. Sure, her bed had a few stuffed animals on it, but not much in the way of frills. A sensible bedroom for a young girl, as opposed to the plush and lacy nightmare he had expected her to live in.

Cream's in comparison looked like a cake factory had exploded inside of a fabric store moments after a collision with an out-of-control wagon full of plush animals: a plush cat, a pair of ducks made out of felt, and, lording over them all, a massive teddy bear.

Between them, the pair of girls shared a vanity table, complete with a well-polished oval mirror designed to show a face in magnified detail. The table also contained tubes, jars and containers of carefully arranged makeup on it. Though, as he had suspected, both girls were much too young for it and consequently, it stood unused and gathering dust.

"Amy!" Cream called, rushing inside "They're here!"

"Oh, goody!" Amy said, her basil green eyes sparkling.

"Wait, what?" Sonic gasped, decidedly on edge.

"Yeah, I invited some other friends. Is that a problem?"

"I thought it was just the two of you tonight."

Amy stared, incredulous as if her hero had claimed the moon was made of cheese. "What fun is a slumber party with only three people? I invited all of my friends to come around, too!"

"How many?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Including you?" she tilted her head back "Well, with me, you and Cream, it's six total."

Five girls plus himself. All having a slumber party,

"Arrgh, look Amy I'm not sure if you know I'm not interested in hearing you girls talk about which guys you find cute, painting nails, brushing hair, or anything girly like that."

"Ick," Cream remarked, scrunching up her face and sticking out her tongue. "I don't wanna do that, either. I thought we were playing' the game with the boys?"

"Yeah, sheesh Sonic," Amy said, shaking her head. "We're gonna tell stories and talk and play games and stuff. Oh, and eat. Lots of really bad junk food. Stuff that Sally wouldn't let us eat in a million years."

Sonic stood there, confused. Maybe, his hazy recollections of his mother offered a skewed vision of what a girl's slumber party would be. Still, he left nothing to chance, eyeing all his escape options like the open window and even the soot-filled fireplace which he was sure he could fit given sufficient motivation.

"Wait a minute," he asked warily. "What game?"


	3. The Legend of the Bald Monk

**The Legend of the Bald Monk**

"You're going to die if you keep going," cautioned the disembodied voice.

"As if. There's nothing in this musty old temple that can stop me, " Shadow replied, moments before his foot tripped yet another pressure plate and the narrow hallway was filled with a shower of arrows.

Wincing and swearing every time a projectile perforated his leather armour, Shadow darted back and forth, squeezing his way through the passage. When he reached the other side, the firing mechanism disengaged, he stopped and looked back. Still panting, he struck a confident pose and bowed theatrically to his companions.

"You see? Nothing can stop Shadow, the Ultimate life—"

His monologue was cut short as the trap door beneath his sneakers fell open, but his lightning quick reactions saved him once again as he bounded up and above the pit. Beneath him, the flickering torchlight reflected off row after row of sharpened punji stakes lining the bottom, the bones of their previous victims glinting below.

"Ahem. As I was saying, nothing can stop—"

The floor abruptly tilted and Shadow slid into the pit. Sonic dug his hands deep into his blue quills as he yelled. "Again? What the heck, Rotor? A sliding floor? You just put that in there to get me killed!"

"Yes, of course, I did," Rotor said, rolling his eyes from behind his screen. "It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the builders of the tomb keeping robbers out."

"Yeah whatever," Sonic muttered. "I can just erase the numbers and reroll, right?"

"Yes, Sonic. Your new character can catch up to the group when you finish."

"Okay, y'all let's hurry up and make some progress," Bunnie smirked.

"Agreed, but we'll need Sonic to lead the way," Amy said. " None of us can detect traps, and you're the most likely to survive them."

Rotor raised an eyebrow. "Amy, bards can find traps too, you know."

"I suppose we can, but my dexterity is woefully low, and I wasn't willing to sacrifice points from performance and persuasion."

"I guess I'll be taking the lead from here," the paladin announced, prodding every stone along the way, scribbling marks on the ones that wiggled.

Before long, the path opened into a larger chamber, and the group moved into a defensive formation. At the front was an armadillo named Mighty, clad from head to toe in protective runic armour of his patron, Elise and a stocky crocodile whose only armour was the heavy scabbard across his back. Behind them stood the two smaller members of the adventuring party: the bard, Charmy the bee and the purplish chameleon sorcerer, Espio.

Upon examining their surroundings the party found the former hall of worship desecrated. Its walls were lined with torture devices and scattered about were, of course, the obligatory half-rotted corpses As the group took a few steps inside, the door slammed shut behind them. A disembodied voice assaulted their ears and pitchforks, meat hooks and other implements of torture clattered on the blood-stained floor.

"Your efforts are commendable adventurers, though not all of you have been so fortunate."

"Don't y'all be worrying about us none," the paladin said confidently. "Even without Shadow, we're plenty capable of beating your necromancy. Not to mention, a new rogue should be getting here any time now."

"Wait, wait, wait," Rotor said, slapping his screen down onto the table again. "Bunnie, you don't know whether another rogue will be arriving soon. Besides, what makes you think there are zombies?"

"Sugah, I'm afraid its plain as rain," Bunnie commented. "Not that it's a bad thing, though. After all, there's nothing else to do in Adventurer's League but fight."

Rotor's eyes glazed over as he hurriedly rolled some dice behind his screen, but he quickly shook his head and returned to lucidity. "Um... close enough. Now, can I get back to finishing Miles' monologue so we can get this fight started?"

"Miles?" Sonic yelped. "Seriously? That's your villain?"

"Yes, Anti-Tails is the villain, and if you don't like it, make sure you kill him fast!"

"Now where was I…" Miles mused. "Oh yes. You'll all serve me in death, just like them."

"Bout time," the paladin said as the rest party drew their weapons against the zombie mobians. The first to act was Espio, who fired a spray of magic missiles into the chest of the nearest undead, staggering it momentarily, but failing to kill the shambling corpse.

Vector made the next move, charging ahead and cleaving through two zombies with his over-sized battle-axe, hardly noticed their ineffectual gnaws on his thick reptilian hide.

Mighty channelled his holy powers at the enemies surrounding Vector and reduced several of them to dust. This gave the barbarian some breathing room. But a few of the shambling monstrosities responded by lurching in his direction, forcing him to fall back, holding off their flailing arms and snapping jaws with his shield.

Charmy pulled out his lute and plucked at the strings singing, along with the melody.

The doors flew open with a mighty crash as the fourth Shadow of the evening made his entrance. "Don't worry, guys. I got this," he said, striking a heroic pose before charging forward.

Dice clattered across the table. Bunnie and Cream roared with laughter while Tails and Amy giggled, Rotor and Sonic facepalmed. Shadow's attack dice was one: an automatic failure subjecting him to the whims of Rotor's critical failure chart. and as the zombies fell upon him, the heroes could barely make out his last words: "This game is stupid."

With the zombies clustered around the red and black hedgehogs remains, Espio took advantage of the opportunity by launching a fireball into their midst. Vector swung his axe again and struck down a few more undead, but the remaining zombies bit into his legs and battered his sides with their bony hands. The paladin tried to position himself to assist, but couldn't move far without leaving the sorcerer vulnerable. The bard continued playing his song.

"Uh I think I need to go into a rage now," Vector said.

With his eyes wide and pupils narrowed to pinpricks, Tails picked up his dice and slammed them down onto the table. The result was a critical hit and an obliterated monster. He rolled again. When the whirlwind of spinning metal came to an end, the panting barbarian stood amid a pile of bloody, half-rotted bodies.

Several encounters, and ten ill-fated Shadows later, the party of intrepid adventurers finally breached the necromancer's inner sanctum only for Rotor to peered over his screen and grin mischievously at his friends. "Roll for initiative."

Espio's ear twitched in response to a faint skittering sound, "Everyone, look up!"

Espio's warning came just in time for Charmy to see a dark shape descending toward him on a long sticky gob of web. Deftly, he rolled to the side moments before the giant spider landed. Vector immediately leapt into action to cover his companions, but his axe glanced off the spider's chitin exterior. It turned to face him and lashed out, biting deeply into the barbarian's leg.

Mighty manoeuvred into place only to find himself immobilized by a web. Meanwhile, Charmy played a jaunty tune on his lute which would, with any luck, help his friends to get loose.

Suddenly, a new booming voice rang through the darkness. "Have no fear, for the Supreme High Robotnik is here!"

"What?!" everyone around the table yelled in unison.

"What are you doing, Sonic?" Rotor asked. "I thought you were making another Shadow?"

He grinned maniacally "Yeah, but I figured if I'm gonna die all the time, I might as well do it as somebody I don't like."

Rotor stared at him for a few seconds, but then shrugged and said, "Well, you shouldn't have a hard time getting yourself killed. As badly as everyone else is rolling, a technomancer like Robotnik won't last more than a couple of rounds." His comment was punctuated by a round of nods, followed by hateful glares directed towards the dice.

"Nah. Too much trouble. I made him a monk instead."

Bunnie scoffed. "Talk about being out of character."

"Hey, this is my version of him, and I just want to get him killed."

"Make way for the crazed and suicidal Robotnik!" Robotnik charged in. He carried no weapons and wore no armour. Giant arachnid mandibles snapped at him as he closed the distance with his stubby legs. But at the last minute, Robotnik ducked and with a counterattack of his very own slugged the monster in one of its bulbous eyes.

The party of adventurers hobbled over to the barbarian to watch the interloper get himself slaughtered. Taking advantage of their respite, Espio and Charmy helped Mighty out of his armour, while Mighty focused on casting healing spells.

"Hit me already, you stupid bug!" the bald monk bellowed, swearing loudly every time an attack missed his rotund form. One blow after another connected with the spider's chitinous carapace, splintering large sections of the thick armoured plating and covering his bare knuckles in foul-smelling fluids before the spider's head came clean off and the contents of the treasures within were up for the adventurers to divvy amongst themselves.

"Arrgh, you can't let me get stuck with this character!" Sonic moaned.

Rotor leaned over and put a hand on Sonic's shoulder. "You were due for a bout of some good luck. Something like this had to happen eventually."

"Maybe so," Sonic muttered, "but it would've been nice if it was with Shadow instead."

"True, but you never made Shadow into a monk. Besides I'm not sure what else I can do to get Robotnik killed. He's already beaten a giant spider unaided." Rotor paused, stroking his tusks thoughtfully. "Why don't you just have him commit suicide, or leave the group?"

"No way," Sonic huffed as he leaned back and crossed his legs. "Shadow died fifteen times already. Robotnik's gotta get killed by something."

Rotor brow furrowed in concentration as he rested his chin on a hand. Several minutes passed in ponderous silence before he suddenly yelled, "Got it!" as Cream and Amy were coming back into the room with fresh drinks and snacks, startling the pair.

"Nice reflex saves," Rotor said sheepishly. Amy had narrowly avoided spilling the glasses, and Bunnie caught the bowl of chips just before it could hit the floor. "Anyway, as I was saying, I can put together a nice little gauntlet that should get Robotnik killed in no time."

"Come along, everybody. The ignorant and misguided Robotnik has decided that we shall bypass that helpful village. Instead, we shall brave the dreaded Labyrinth of Fatso Murder."

The rest of the party happily fell in line behind Robotnik, and delved into the mouth of a conveniently-placed cave, above which hung a sign saying, 'Beware, all ye who enter. Especially if ye be overweight' Inside, they found a roughly-hewn passage, its walls adorned with paintings of pointy objects being thrust through a vaguely humanoid blob of orange paint.

The first trap was triggered almost immediately. Spikes sprang up from the floor, but Robotnik somersaulted and gracefully landed atop their points. Once he ambled across the field of deadly protrusions, they retracted into the floor. When the arrow trap fired, Robotnik caught all of the projectiles with ease. Over the next few minutes, he walked through fire without being burned and stopped a set of whirring saw blades with his bare hands

"The crazed and suicidal Robotnik is not amused," Robotnik grumbled while the rest of the party gawked on. The party stepped out of the cave and into the sunlight, only to be greeted by the sight of a towering bull-like abomination, covered in a dull black carapace, and sporting a wide mouth full of sharp teeth…

Sometime later, the beast fell to the ground. Its shattered carapace oozed foul-smelling fluids, particularly at the spots on its head where its own severed horns had been driven through its skull. The Supreme High Robotnik stood in solemn triumph over his vanquished foe. "Stupid under-powered ultimate enemy," he said glumly atop his fallen nemesis.

Having utterly crushed the will of Fate, the monk returned to his companions who were cautiously approaching the carcass. Robotnik opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by the spontaneous appearance of a bright glow behind him. He spun around and witnessed a small orb of iridescent energy rising up through the last hole he made in the monster's face.

"Oh, That's the Tarasque's life force," Amy remarked. "If you destroy it now, it'll be gone forever. Otherwise, it'll return to the monster and it'll sleep for a few hundred years and prey upon the next unsuspecting party."

"Whatever," the pudgy monk muttered. "It doesn't matter if it comes back or not; it can't beat Robotnik. Unless…" His frown slowly reversed, and his lips soon split into a grin.

"You have an idea?" Vector asked.

"Indeed I do. Watch and learn, The Supreme High Robotnik shall snatch defeat from the jaws of victory!" Robotnik stepped toward the light. Raw chaos energy made his moustache twitch as he took a deep breath. Then, after barely a moment's hesitation, he lunged at the orb...

...and took a bite out of it.

"You didn't… No way."

"Yeah, Rotor, I did! I totally did!" Sonic's words were choked out between peals of laughter. "There's no way Lardnik can survive eating something like that, right?"

Rotor laid down his Dungeon Master screen and neatly folded it up. The book in front of him was showing a picture of the Tarasque, along with its stats and other information privy only to him "Sonic, I have good and bad news. The good news is that Robotnik is gone forever."

Sonic leapt to his feet. "Aw yeah! Who's the man, huh. Who's the man now?"

Rotor cleared his throat. "As for the bad news, you just turned him into a god."

"I hate this game," Sonic muttered but none of his friends could hear it over their own laughter.


	4. First Kiss

**First Kiss**

Only recently had Sonic begun to think girls might be more interesting than he had earlier supposed. A few months earlier, while playing hooky, Sonic along with his best friend Tommy had been hanging out by the creek. They kicked cans around and complained about their duties. Then, Sonic noticed the corner of a half-buried magazine sticking out from beneath a prickly bush. Even before he caught a good glimpse of the open page, he somehow sensed what it was. Tommy Turtle pulled it out, smoothed out the creased pages, admired the article and chuckled. Sonic backed away.

"What's wrong with you?" Tommy chided. "Chicken?"

"No." Sonic breathed.

Never one to resist a dare, Sonic had snatched the magazine from his reptilian friend and leafed rapidly through the contents. Most of the images depicted things beyond his regular experience. The sensations reaching him as a series of disconnected impressions. But that intrusive feeling refused to come together into a coherent whole. Upon reaching centrefold, he stopped. His throat closed up, and it felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

Tommy sniggered again. Since that day, Sonic had watched the girls warily, trying to correlate them to the pictures he'd seen. He couldn't quite do it. He couldn't truly believe that Princess Sally with her almost mannish mannerisms and Bunnie with her 'big sister' attitude was exactly the same as the voluptuous creatures he had seen in the magazine. He tried to imagine kissing them, but that couldn't quite come together in his mind, either. Nonetheless, a newfound mixture of confusion, desire, and anxiety roiled constantly and unpleasantly in his gut.

Then there was Amy. She was a girl. But she didn't make his face heat up or fill him with anxiety the way the magazine pictures had. Just the same, he enjoyed talking to her and spending time with her. He could relax with her, as she had said she could with him. Or, at least, he usually could. Now was entirely different.

Sonic was hardly an expert on the matters of the heart and decided to consult the closest thing he knew to an expert. He saw her bedroom light on and deciding now was as good a time as any he barged right on in. But as soon as Sonic sneakers prodded onto linoleum, Bunnie's ears pricked up, she gasped, shied and dropped her powder case on the countertop.

"Oh, mah stars! Don't jus barge in on a gal like that!" she protested angrily.

"Sorry Buns, but I really need your help." Sonic softly said.

"Why?"

Sonic ran a hand through his quills. "Well, it's sorta . . ."

Bunnie raised an eyebrow. "Gal trouble?"

"How'd ya know?"

She rolled her eyes. "Shucks, it ain't cuz ah'm clairvoyant. Ah can see you've got that look."

"Look, if I've caught you at a bad time—"

"Sit down, Sugah hog" She offered.

Sonic complied, quickly planting himself beside her. Staring at his hands, he twiddled his thumbs and, after an uncomfortable silence, said, "Could you, um, teach me—?" He paused when a wave of nausea flooded his stomach and a cold sweat broke along his spine. He glanced sidelong at her and saw her staring at him with a glum, impatient expression. He squeezed his eyes shut and blurted, "Could you teach me how to kiss a girl?"

Another uncomfortable silence followed. Bunnie snorted. "Are yer serious?"

"Yes," Sonic chocked out, almost instantaneously feeling the urge to bolt from the room to avoid the sure to be ensuing fit of laughter from the bionic belle.

"How old are you again?" she asked.

"Thirteen—"

"Yer don't need kissing lessons, kiddo. Wait till yer at least sixteen. That's when ah touched first base. If yer catch mah drift."

"I don't know what that means but c'mon, Buns, ya gotta help me."

Bunnie Rabbot snorted again. "Look, you caught me at an inconvenient time and-" pausing, Bunnie shuddered a little and gritted her teeth together in visible pain.

"You okay?" Sonic asked.

Bunnie kept silent, drawing several deep breaths through her nose while slamming her biological hand on the make-up counter which caused the tins and brushes upon it rattle. With a shaky hand, she reached into a snuff tin filled with dandelions which she chewed one mouthful after another.

"Ya okay?"

Bunnie wiped the sinus from her nose. "Never mind" she gasped. "It ... it passes. Sometimes, ah forget that ah'm just half metal and ah overstretch the part of mahself that's still flesh and blood." Bunnie shook her head. Bracing herself against her vanity mirror she uttered "Look, I'll teach you. But ah gotta be more than just hands on. So, yer gonna let me teach about first base?"

"Is that related to baseball?"

"Ugh, you really should come back when you're older. First, yer close your eyes. If yer don't close yer eyes, you're a punk. Got that?"

"I guess."

"Then you tilt your head."

"Why?"

Bunnie paused. "Ah don't know, really. It's traditional. Tilt. Or you're a punk. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Then you lean."

"Lean?"

"Yes, lean. Of course, you lean. Do ya expect yer special someone to come to you? If you do—"

"I'm a punk?"

"Yes, you're a punk all right. Close, tilt, lean: remember that. Then you kiss. And that's it."

"But, wait a minute, that's the important part, isn't it? I want to know how to do the kissing thing. What's the trick?"

Bunnie groaned and faceplanted. "Honestly, Sugah—"

"Please, Bunnie! Help me out!" Sonic pleaded.

"There are many kinds of kisses, and each one carries a special meaning," she said dreamily. With a harrumph, she pushed herself off the chaise, spun around, and stood before him. "What sort of kiss are we discussing? There's the Eskimo Nose Kiss, the Butterfly Kiss, the Light Peck on the Cheek, the Gentle Kiss on the Forehead, the French Goodbye Kiss—"

"French kiss—?" Sonic shrank back.

"Not that kind of French kiss, you idiot! You kiss the air beside her cheeks! The air!"

"I'm just looking for a regular boy-girl kiss. I guess." Sonic confessed

She pursed her lips and nodded. "Hmm. Mm hm, mm hm. A First Kiss, yes. It must be just so or else it's ruined. Of course, as a first, it will be remembered forever—"

Sonic swallowed. "This will be your First Kiss, ah presume—"

"Well, yeah, that's why I'm—"

"And what about fer her?"

Sonic blinked. "I . . . I dunno. I think so."

"Then assume so. Don't ask her, please. That would make you—"

"A punk."

"Exactly. The First Kiss must be slow, tender, gentle, and, above all, brief."

"How can it be slow and brief?"

" Must ah explain everything to you?" She placed her hands on her hips and stared hard for almost a minute before saying, "I suppose there's no help for it. Yer simply need ta practice."

"Wait, what?"

"Kiss me, idiot."

With his mouth hanging open, Sonic stared down at Bunnie Rabbot's muzzle.

"What are yer waiting for?" she demanded. "You wanted lessons, didn't you? Well, what are lessons without practice? You don't learn to play an instrument merely by lookin at sheets, yer must play. Kiss me badly, yer silly hog."

Sonic closed his mouth, swallowed again, and found his voice. "But then it wouldn't be my first kiss."

A sly grin spread slowly across the southern belle's face. "Very good. Lesson's over. You passed. Now get out of here." She shoved him off the chaise and onto the floor. Then she returned to her vanity mirror and continued applying her makeup.

Sonic brushed off imaginary dust from his calf. "I don't get it."

She sighed and stared at him from her mirror. "Sugah Hog, there's no 'trick' to kissing. It isn't quite like jammin on yer guitar; yer don't approach luv with a bunch of skills and techniques. It's more like an exploration: learn new things about each other and cherish the disappointments and mistakes because you love each other. Got it?"

"I—"

"Also, don't walk in on a lady while she's applying her makeup. I trust yer can find the door."

He turned his head and smiled at her. "I guess I can do that…"

Giggling, Amy Rose started rolling back and forth in the grass. "Ah, that feels so good to get off my chest! Come roll with me, Sonic."

"What? I don't wanna—"

Amy almost rolled on top of him. He yelled in alarm, but she reached one hand past his shoulder and stopped herself before she crushed him. After swiftly nuzzling his cheek, she rolled back the other way and, laughing all the while, rolled right down the hill, stopping at last in a bed of tall sunflowers, their golden faces facing skywards.

When she sat straight up, a bright green butterfly landed on her nose. Rolling up his imaginary sleeves, Sonic walked down the hill to rejoin her, starting the butterfly which flew away. He sat down, cross-legged, across from her while she threw herself back down into the grass like an over-eager dog.

"Have you ever wondered about what life is like over on the other side, in Moebius?" she asked.

"It's weird, but I didn't think about our evil counterparts much," Sonic said, upon recalling the entire venture. " When we left their turf, the Suppression Squad had their hands full fighting the good Doctor Kintobar."

Amy turned over onto her stomach and took a handful of flowers. "While you were there, I wondered." She mused, tossing a handful of flowers over her own head. "If things were the same on both sides. Once, I was playing a record on a phonograph, and I realized I could make it go really, really fast so the voices would get all squeaky like they were on helium, or I could make it play really deep and slow like static. I wondered if Moebius and home were like two different records, and I wondered if they played at the same speed."

Sonic plucked a stem of grass, stuck it in his lips, and laid down. "I dunno."

"I wondered, if you went there and didn't come back until I was all grown up, maybe I'd still be here, and it would be like only a couple of days had gone by, and I'd say, 'Oh, Sonic! You're all grown up!' But if it went the other hand, then—"

Sonic chewed the grass stem and stared up at the slowly drifting clouds overhead. "Ya know Ames, that never occurred to me. When Sally said we had ta take the fight to them I did it because it was the right thing to do. Besides, why are you thinkin' 'bout this stuff?"

She turned her face toward his. "Because I want to hurry an' grow up."

A lump formed in his throat and Sonic stomach clenched again. He turned and looked into her emerald eyes. A faint breeze tousled her luscious fur and made the grass wave in front of her face. They gazed at each other in silence for a few minutes before Amy closed her eyes and feigned sleep.

With the sun slowly dipping over the horizon, the pair came to a stop by a dirt path some distance from Knothole when Hershey Cat appeared riding on a motorcycle. She came to a stop abruptly, spraying rock and gravel.

Like most of the remnants of the Acorn army, her look was sombre and grim. Sonic had always felt sorry for them, but, though he had never admitted it aloud, they made his flesh crawl.

"The Princess wants to see you two," Hershey said, her voice as flat as her expression. She blinked a few times, and the sight of her eyelids fluttering over those stone-cold pupils made Sonic think he might lose the picnic lunch he'd just had.

When they reached home, they found Sally and Geoffrey St. John standing in the enclosed courtyard. Sonic crossed his arms, leaned against a wall, and prepared himself for the inevitable berating session. Amy sat down next to him.

Several minutes passed before Geoffrey St John spoke. "No trainee is allowed to vacate the premises without express permission from the commander," he said, "and none is allowed absence from combat training without grave reason."

All was silent for a moment until Amy shrieked "I don't wanna be your puppet!"

"You are hereby confined to your quarters until further notice," Geoffrey snapped.

Amy snapped back. "It's my room, and I go there when I want."

Geoffrey stepped forward. His usually calm voice took on a dangerous edge. "We have tolerated your childish antics for far too long, but things are going to be different now in Knothole. For too long, we have been teetering on the percipience of oblivion. No more. No more childish antics and no more games."

Amy stuck out her tongue.

Sally shifted, looking uneasy said in a soft but firm tone. "That's quite enough Mr St. John. Amy go to your room, now."

Amy stared at Sally and the seething Geoffrey before her head drooped and she complied. Sulkily, with many angry glances over her shoulder, Amy returned to her home, Princess Sally standing by her side. Sonic stood straight and, clenching his teeth, raised his fists. But he made no further move.

Slowly, the Freedom Fighters dispersed from search duties to their various tasks, leaving Sally standing beside Amy, who now sat on the ground with her head hanging low. Sonic saw her shoulders heave once, suggesting she had been silently crying all the while and was just now struck with a violent sob. Frustration coursed through Sonic's veins. He had wanted to defend her, but after his initial outburst, no words had come to him. He had stood by silently and let others stand up for her.

When Sally finally stepped outside of Amy's home, the Milky Way shone bright and clear overhead. Orion's belt, faintly twinkling with its own embedded stars, cut a clear defining line across the sky. Sonic glanced at Sally, who watched him with her arms crossed.

"You're in trouble," she mentioned.

"You can't tell me what to do!" he shouted. "You're not my Mom, Sal! And you're definitely not my 'commander!'" At his protests, sharp pangs of annoyance spiked through Sally's insides. She wanted to grab Sonic by the ear, tell him it was past his bedtime, and drag him back to his house.

At the age of twelve, Sally had shepherded the children. Directionless and confused, her friends had spent their lives playing and dancing in the sun, even as danger threatened to engulf them. They were like children who laughed and returned to their toys immediately after learning that their parents were dead: they lived as they had when King Acorn led with unquestioned authority from the Source of All, for that was all they knew how to do

So, Sally had to be their caretaker. She had become for them the same thing Aunt Rosie had before her—a second mother. She instructed her friends in friendship, kindness, and love, but she had also taught them sorrow and grief. She had taught them to confront death and pain in the hopes that, with her guidance, they might finally grow up. But she knew she couldn't mother them all the time. Sonic wasn't a little kid anymore. He was an adolescent, too old for her to mother and watch over. She knew that.

She knew that she had failed at the job of mothering him anyway.

Her hands trembled. She stood there for a minute, clenching and unclenching her chilled fists, watching her misty breath glisten with faint light reflected from starlight, feeling the cold air around her jaw like a clamp. In her chest, the spike of anger and irritation gradually dissolved into melancholy. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, tried to push back the pain of the knots in it, and wondered at her own rage.

"We expended who knows how many man hours and how much precious gasoline over a silly childhood crush" she choked out at last.

"It wasn't silly, Sal, and do you really think it's that easy? After what you did to her?"

Silence. Sal rose slowly to her feet. "After what I—?"

"Yeah, you."

"I tried to protect her."

"Protect?" Sonic's voice rose. "You call that protecting? You think you can just screw up everybody's life as long as you tell yourself you're protecting—?"

She shook her head. "Don't. Don't even. I swear, Sonic—"

"Shut up, Sal. I'm sick of it."

"Oh, what are you sick of, Sonic? Did I interrupt your playtime?"

"Grow up!"

"You are saying that to me?" Sally growled.

"Yeah! I am! You're always whining like you got it so hard. You have been whining for years. Oh wah, my brother ain't coming to save the day, oh wah, my daddy left me here in this—"

She hauled back and tried to punch him, but the agile speedster deflected the blow with a forearm, grabbed Sally by her vest, and slammed her against the wall. Her teeth clenched, she whispered, "You're just as bad as him."

"You don't understand me, Sal. Don't pretend you do."

"I understand you just fine. You're the punk who chases skirt, and that's why I always find you feeling up every naïve little girl who doesn't know any better—"

He gave her another shove and stepped away.

"Somebody has to watch out for you!" she shouted back. "You're always running around, getting hurt, making trouble, and screwing off! Who will look out for you? Your parents or your uncle, indentured to Robotnik —"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"Don't talk about him like that!"

Sally marched to Sonic, grabbed his collar, and slapped him hard.

Sonic raised a fist but just as quickly dropped it again when he saw anger, doubt, and agony pass across Sally's face like clouds rolling over the sky in a high wind. With a chocked gasp she grabbed him roughly around the shoulders and hugged him tight and he felt her cheek turn wet. "I want you safe, Sonic. And I want Tails safe, all of us. Do you understand that? Don't go running off again without telling anyone. Just don't."

He waited several seconds but finally hugged her back. After he thought he was calm enough to speak without his voice cracking, he whispered, "I just want things to go back to how they were."

"They can't, Sonic. You know that as well as I do."


	5. The Marshal Of Mercia

**The Marshal Of Mercia**

The next day, Amy travelled with Sally to the province of Mercia. The pair stepped their way through the soft black earth, laden with twigs and fallen leaves and sheltered beneath a thick canopy of vegetation from where they would find relief from the sweltering heat above.

The sunlight seeping from above struck the forest floor in occasional shafts of gold between green-tinted shadows cast by the leafy canopy. Moss grew thick on the bark of the oaks and elms, and tufts of Spanish moss hung like woman's hair from the branches. Rhododendrons and vine maple grew in thick, tangled patches that made passage difficult, but between them were clumps of low bear grass where it was possible to walk.

Although the heavy humidity wafting forth from the forest floor was cool, the two had trudged through sun-drenched fields abuzz with flies and midges, so sweat now matted clothes to the skin. So the pair eventually came to a rest beside a stump crowned with jagged, chunks of shattered wood. Perched atop the stump was a brightly coloured Flickie which Sally whistled to and the bird much to Amy's surprise seemed to whistle back in reply.

Amy, her mouth twisted in a pensive frown, stepped up and with a loud snap of a twig beneath her foot the Flickie, startled, flitted over to a low hanging bough.

"Back then, in Moebius," Sally said, "I could actually speak to them."

Sally believed she had kept it a secret but many a night she would spend covered by a few blankets and strung securely from a hammock from the trees. Gradually, she would be lulled to sleep by the steady thud of her heartbeat, the screeching of cicadas and the occasional chitter from the small rodents scattering below.

For several months after their return from Moebius, she had spent as much time as she could with the birds, trying to get them to talk back, much as Gulliver had done to his horses after returning to England from the land of the Houyhnhnms. One day, Sonic had found her slowly enunciating words in the hopes that they would repeat them back Sonic had ridiculed her. After that, she had stopped the futile language lessons, but every once in a while, she still carried her bedding out to her special tree.

A few nights before Amy's first major mission, her stomach had ached from anxiety. Sally wondered what would happen when Amy would finally step outside of the microcosmic safety of Knothole and out onto a dangerous world.

"So, Sally what do they say," Amy asked.

Sensing the bone-weariness of her charge, Sally took out a flask of cider which she took a sip from before offering to Amy which she drank greedily and gratefully from. "They're saying it's not safe here and they're migrating away to where it's safer." with a sad look on her face she continued "I fear what has become of the province of Mercia and of your cousin."

Amy gulped.

Sally, seeing a pall of worry come over the Freedom Fighter initiate asked, "Are you nervous?"

Amy squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.

"I'm always nervous too before a mission," Sally said, shielding her eyes as she gazed thoughtfully into the sky. "But there's a trick I've learned. Want to know what it is?"

Amy nodded.

"Now, I want you to picture Robotnik, dressed only in his underwear."

Amy snorted and held back a titter of laughter at the sheer incongruity of the mental image that was conjured up. "That's funny" she gasped upon recovering

"Never mind. Just relax. I'm gonna be there by your side and everything be fine. Besides aren't you glad that you're returning home?"

Amy frowned "I was very young when I left. I don't even remember my parents. Just what cousin Rob told me about them. Um, you said something about my cousin—"

"We've got to be proactive, looking for new allies in the fight. Some of the new arrivals suggested there was some sort of resistance group based in Mercia calling themselves the 'Crazy Cats' or something like that and your cousin Rob O' Hedge was supposed to be leading the movement." Retrieving the hip flask from Amy, Sally flipped open her palm pad NICOLE to get her bearings. "According to NICOLE we're deep in their territory now and I've haven't heard hide nor hair of them."

"I'm sorry," Amy whispered.

"Hey Amy, it's all right. I just thought that maybe because Mercia was the least developed of the provinces. Nothing much for Robotnik's to retool. I thought that maybe - "

Then, taking a step forward the forest floor seemed to creak beneath Amy's shoes.

Sally frowned. "That wasn't a twig. That sounded like-"

Amy gasped as the ground gaped open beneath her. "Sally!" she screamed, and then she slid down into darkness.

Without hesitation or thought, Sally pointed her hands and leapt as if diving into deep water. She slipped through the trapdoor just before it snapped closed.

A stream of leaves, twigs, and dirt fell with her. Amy struck a hard, smooth surface tilted at a steep angle. It knocked the wind from her lungs, and she began to slide. Gasping, she thrust her arms out and tried to grab something to arrest her descent, but only met more of the same surface. Unable to find a purchase, she plummeted headfirst into pitch darkness.

She took in a gasp of air and rasped, "Amy!"

Amy, somewhere down below, shouted something unintelligible back. Her body slid partway up a rounded wall as she struck a curve. With a hand, she found a lip and thereby discovered that she was sliding down a trough rather than a tube as she initially believed. She tried to grab the lip, but her momentum was too great, and it slid from her grasp

"Sally!" Amy shouted again. She sounded even farther away.

"You're all right!" Sally shouted back. "I'm here!"

The darkness lessened, and Amy could now see stalactites, edged with green light, glistening overhead. The light was coming from down below, where, over the lip of the trough, she could see a forest of impossible huge Stalagmites dangling from the ceiling.

"Oh gosh!" Amy shrieked.

"Stay with me, Amy!" Sally called back having managed a firm grip of her charge's hands.

The trough grew steeper, and Amy hit her face hard on the bottom, scraping a patch of flesh away from her chin. Up ahead, Sally, her signature blue vest resembling chlorine in the greenish light shot out of the end of the trough and crashed into the churning waters below. The water was shockingly cold, striking like a thousand knives through her skin. Like a vice, the water closed over her barrel, pushed against her ribs, and stole her breath. Sally's soft hands lost their grip and the world fell silent save the churning of water.

But even here in this forsaken place, there was air and warmth. She washed up in a cavern, wandering and stumbling for what she was certain were many hours until the sun was a golden beacon perched on the rim of the subterranean world. Amy, now hopelessly lost, found herself in a rocky waste with no clear memory of how she had made her way there.

Unsure in which direction home lay in the depths of the cavern below she shivered partly out of the fear that coursed through her veins and partly from the chilly air. A harsh wind swept across the desolate landscape, picked up dust and grit, and flung them in her face.

"Toto," she muttered. "We're not in Kansas anymore." Amy looked around for any trace of Sally before giving up. "I'd best find some sheltered place to sleep."

She leaned against a rocky wall to rest and find her bearings, only to gasp when, with a harsh, hollow noise like grating stone, the wall opened to reveal a dank tunnel full of inky darkness. Amy trembled again, when a gust of chill wind blew through, as she stared into the black. The opening promised shelter from the wind, so she stepped inside. But as soon as she cleared the entrance, the stone again ground shut.

"Fiddlesticks, how shall anyone find me now," she whined Though she couldn't see, she could hear a steady clanking up ahead as if something metal were repeatedly striking against .stone.

The floor of the cave was slick under her buckled shoes. Several times, she fell as she tried to make her way across the treacherous, slippery landscape. Fragile helictites shattered to dust when she stumbled against them. Occasionally, she plunged up to her knees into cold, slimy water. Still, she climbed from the water and kept walking.

Gradually, she began to be able to discern shapes in the dimness. Cenotes, often surrounding lumpish, glistening stalagmites, glowed with a soft green light. Layered draperies of calcite pulsed and shimmered with colour fringed the mouths of tunnels which seemed hand-made rather than natural. Hints of red and blue shone from shafts overhead. Some of the stalactites twinkled with a faint inner fire, as though they were like primitive lanterns enclosing fireflies. Amy found one hanging as low as her nose and she approached it cautiously, expecting it to be hot. But when she reached out and touched it, but found it cool.

The glow grew brighter until it became like reddish dusk, and the details of the cave's delicate formations were plain to Amy's eyes. At the centre of a great shelf above a vast pit, the bottom of which stood a being of metal. A creature spoke of only in hushed whispers: a Robian. In his metallic fingers, he held a long metal pole with a small barbed tip. Curiously, however, this one displayed no untoward hint of aggression toward her

Her knees shaking, Amy approached the machine. "Excuse me, sir, but I seem to have lost my way. Could you—?"

The Robian that was once Armand D'Coolette stroked a metal whisker just below his chin. His glowing blue photoreceptors seemed to crinkle as he smiled. "What have we here? Another worker for the master." His voice was stern and gentle but roughened slightly with age, much like a doting grandfather.

Amy's knees shook so hard, that as she backpedalled she fell onto her back. "Who are you?" she cried. "Where am I? I wanna go back home!"

"I am The Marshal, loyal Satrap to Robotnik. This-" he began indicating the cavern Amy now stood in "will be your new home. You will stay here and dig ores with the other Mobians who haven't received the privilege of being clad in steel and silicon as I."

"Other Mobians—?" Amy stood and tried to run from the deranged Robian, but was shocked to find that the drone had in spite of its clunky appearance rushed upon her with a burst of speed and seized her by the arm. Amy struggled frantically but found herself being unable to break free.

As if she were nothing but a sack of sugar, he tossed her over his back and into a tunnel where several other Mobians were using a wide complement of crude tools to smash stones and reveal the dull ochre ores within.

"They will show you what do to," The Marshal said. With one hand, he dumped a terrified Amy unceremoniously on the floor, leaving her in a heap. Then he slipped away into the darkness as though he had never been.

Amy arose shakily and walked to the nearest fellow Mobian. Her eyes had just enough time to adjust to the pervasive darkness and could just about discern the form of a lanky moose with an impressive rack of antlers "Boy am I glad to see you," Amy said. "We've got to get out of here—"

But there she paused, gasping when the Mobian turned a dirt-streaked face toward her. A section of antler completely gone and an ugly burn just under his left eye. It reminded Amy of scrambled eggs, burned and whisked together. "Too late f'r us," the moose whispered, his voice as hollow as if speaking through a brass tube. "Thee need to get out while thee still can."

Amy whined loudly when she felt a whisker-coated nose rub against her shoulder. She turned to see a sparrow with clipped and atrophied wings dragging along the ground. The sparrow's feathers were matted and filthy.

Amy screamed.

The Marshal wielded an electrified prod. When Amy refused to dig or failed to dig fast enough she would be struck with a blow that seared like fire. Tears poured from her eyes as she smashed the crude mallet into the stone walls of the cave, monotonously chipping and scratching, burrowing like a mole in search of those minerals for which Robotnik lusted after. Whenever exhaustion overwhelmed her and she collapsed, the prod was always there to goad her on again.

Her muscles ached. She could barely walk, let alone dig, but the beatings didn't cease. They smote her and drove her into narrow, twisting tunnels where she crawled in pitch blackness as the rough stone ceiling scraped loose quills from her back and the rough stone floor scraped flesh from her legs and belly until at last, she saw a sliver of dull brownish ore up ahead. Then, unable to turn around, she wearily crawled backwards with the lump of ochre-coloured rock in hand.

She could not discern the passage of days and nights. She did not know how long she was forced to work, but every so often, just when she thought she could not lift her arms to take another swing the abuse abated. She fell against the cool ground and nothing struck her to make her rise again. Then, her captor reappeared and laid before her a bowl of watery gruel. Sometimes, he whispered sweet and kind words of encouragement making the torment all the more horrible.

Relief came when she was allowed to sleep. She nestled with the others, who always huddled for warmth. There were thirteen of them, thin, emaciated creatures and they all had hollow voices as if fading into ghosts. Coughing and wheezing echoed through the cave in which they slumbered, but Amy slept anyway, being too exhausted to be kept awake.

The one with the dyed hair with flecks of purple was named Mina Mongoose. During a break, she nestled against Amy, pressed her nose to her cheek, and whispered, "Do you see?"

"Yes," Amy whispered back.

Working her mouth as if she were nibbling on cud, Mina gently ran her hands covered with sores over Amy's face. "I think you must be very pretty." Her voice cracked as she added, "I know I was pretty once, long ago. If you may, tell me please, am I still pretty now?"

Amy could dimly discern Mina Mongoose's outline in the dark. Her ribs showed through the torn rags of a dress. Her limbs had become bony and wasted. Crisscrossing her body were cuts, abrasions, and scars. When Mina stumbled Amy could see her joints were swollen and bruised, and on her legs were running sores.

"Yes," Amy said. "Yes, you're still very pretty."

The former starlet smiled, closed her weary eyes, and slept.

Even compared to the others, Mina was especially thin, and oftentimes her high-pitched, wheezy cough would echo through the darkness. Amy noted, when the thin watery gruel was doled out by their unfeeling captor, the others didn't finish theirs, but left half an inch in their bowls and, silently, pushed them in front Mina and coaxed her to drink.

Though the ever-pervasive pangs of hunger gnawed her, Amy knew she still had a plump body from eating heartily in Knothole. Feeling somewhat guilty, she began to push some of her rations in front of Mina as well. Mina coughed and, urged by her friends, ate as much as she could, which was often not much.

That male sparrow with the dragging wings, whom the others called Bow Sparrow whispered, "Mina doesn't have long."

"She'll go, just liketh the oth'rs," Friar Buck, the moose with the missing antler whispered back.

"Long for what?" Amy asked. "Like what others?"

They didn't answer, but the time came when Amy, staggering back to the sleeping cave from another long session of digging and pain, found Mina laying on her side in a work tunnel as if taking a nap. "You can't sleep here," Amy said. "Come on home." She beckoned. No response came and Amy bent close to Mina's cheeks, but no breath came from her nose, and chest remained stock still.

From somewhere up the tunnel, Amy heard a hacking cough and then another. She understood: Dust. That was why their voices sounded hollow. That was why they coughed. She breathed deep and realized her chest felt heavy and tight. She murmured and noted her voice was beginning to sound hollow as well. In time, she knew she would end up just like Mina.

Sometimes, as she worked on the edge of one of the cavern's ledges Amy would look down to see needle-like stalagmites jutting upward through the darkness. She would get dizzy, and they would seem to leap up at her. She tried not to think about it, but her imagination ran wild, allowing her to clearly envision sharp fingers of rock gouging deep into the skin, pry past her ribs, and dig deep into her body.

The thought sent a sickly, crawling sensation coursing through her veins and she shook as if a horde of flies had descended upon her for she realized the thing she had never realized before: she was going to die. Somehow, soon, whether by slipping or through slow starvation and lung-sickness, she was going to fall down and not get up.

When that revelation struck her, the world changed shape, and all at once the threats and the stings from his stun baton no longer mattered. Wincing as her bruised feet sent shocks up her legs, she marched over to the chambers and said to her fellow wretched slaves, "Follow me."

Hollow-eyed faces met her own and the first, Bow Sparrow, asked "Followeth? Wh're?"

"Just do it."

"Now is a moment of rest," Thorn the Lop, a white rabbit protested.

Friar Buck didn't bother to move, "Why? Th're will be w'rk and pain enow tom'rrow."

"Consarnit," Amy cursed. "I'm going to leave and get help from the Freedom Fighters. We've got to get out of here!"

"Stay," Thorn said. "It will all be better if we just give in."

"At least try!" Amy cried. "Please! What more can he do? Kill us? We're dying anyway. If you love freedom, if you even remember freedom, then rally to me."

For a moment, the slaves were silent, but then Bow Sparrow, though on his knees wobbled "I rememb'r freedom and the warmeth drafteth of the th'rmals sending me skybound." pausing to flex one dragging wing Bow Sparrow continued " l might nev'r flyeth again, but i still wanteth to beest free. I shall followeth thee"

Thorn Lop, grunting, took to her feet as well. " In summ'r solstice, the kitchen wast so warmeth, and the smelleth of sweet ging'r did fill" The rabbit paused, ruefully staring at her hands which were covered in cramps and sores. " I may nev'r baketh again, but i still wanteth to beest free. I shall followeth thee"

One by one, the residents of Mercia rose as well. Each spoke her story. Each declared their need to be free. At last, only Munch Rat a sickly Mobian dressed in a torn green tunic remained on the floor.

"Tis not w'rth it," he groaned. Though masked by darkness, Amy could see fresh tears streaking Munch Rat's cheeks. " What doest it matt'r if I am free? Ev'rything that was dear to me I has't hath lost and can nev'r has't backeth again."

A tear ran down Amy's own face. "Please," she begged. "I can't give you back your old life, but at least take back yourself. The Marshal has taken so much of you already. Don't let him have the rest."

"Cometh with us, Munch Rat" Friar Buck whispered. "Please f'r old times' sake."

"In the old times with the Crazy Kilters," wheezed Bow Sparrow, " thee w're nev'r one to giveth up, nay matt'r how hard the going wast. Thee can't giveth up now"

"Please," said Thorn.

"How?" Munch Rat asked. " Wh're do we even go?"

"I know a place that is free and safe," Amy answered, "you can follow me there." She looked back and forth among the exhausted, sickly Mobians. Though her throat hurt, her chest felt heavy, and her voice sounded ungainly in her ears, she began a piping off-key hum to the beat of the heavy footsteps behind her. Amy picked her way across the broken cavern floor until she came at last to her captor's domain.

The Robian stood in place and rubbing a metallic whisker stared at the slaves and asked in a gentle mocking tone, "What do you want, slaves? Return to your place and sleep."

"No," Amy answered. "No more."

"You will not work?" The Marshal hissed gripping one metal fist.

She shook her head.

"Then you will suffer."

As anticipated, the Robian lashed out with his instrument of torture, lighting crackled forth and raced through the young girl's body. Amy's knees buckled, and tears fell from her eyes. She fought every one of her panicked instincts. The ones that told her to beg and cry.

She took to her feet, gritted her teeth, and growled, "No more."

"Then you will die." The Marshal raised a metal fist, and lightning seemed to arc from the baton in his hand. In the twinkle of an eye, he struck Amy in the bosom again with his impeccable swordsmanship; a holdover when Armand still lived and breathed. Amy fell back and howled.

"I give you one more chance," The Marshal said, his voice soft kind and reasonable to Amy's frazzled mind. "You may dig, sleep and eat your meals, or perish in agony. Choose."

Amy didn't answer. She only rose and took a deep breath. She winced against the burning pain that stretched tightly across her chest. She dug in her feet, and, with a snort, she charged., running straight at the flabbergasted Robian, mallet in hand.

As she raced, she felt anger course through her body. She swung wildly and an enormous toy piko-piko hammer materialized into her hands. Not questioning her stroke of good fortune, she swung the mallet as hard as she could. With a loud crunch as the toy hammer made contact. The Marshal's eyes opened wide before he staggered backwards and tumbled off a cliff, his arms extended as though reaching for the ledge. Amy never heard him strike the ground.

Then, Amy heard an explosion. Something sliced her left side, feeling like a hammer pounding against her ribs and refusing to let up. A similar blow slammed into her left hind leg. The explosion echoed from the cavern walls, and stalactites cracked and fell, shattering with a sound like breaking glass. After a minute, all was silent except for the quiet trickle of gravel and the hiss of settling the dust.

"The Freedom Fighters!" she suggested.

Then began the endless trek to the surface. With acid burning in her throat, she walked, throbbing feet sent pains like knife cuts straight up into her skull, and though festering wounds on her knees wept pus. Her head throbbed, and her chest, burned by The Marshal's blows blazed as if struck by a branding iron.

Behind her, the slave Mobians followed. In too much exhaustion to scream or moan, they merely breathed in rhythmic gasps as they stumbled in the dark. They were past the point of crying, past the point even of giving up. They walked and kept walking because the act of lying down to die would have taken too much thought, too much will: their decision to follow had drained the last of their energy, and they now staggered on because they had suffered until they could do nothing except suffer further.

Tears poured from Amy's own eyes. "Oh, Sally," she whimpered. "Where are you? Why have you left me here? Will it not end? Will none of this ever end?" She doubled over and vomited on the floor.

After what seemed like years, decades, or centuries, they turned a corner in the cavern, and Amy beheld a blinding white light from outside. At last, the dusty, suffocating air of the cave fell away, and she breathed fresh, clean air for the first time in more days than she knew. She fell down at the cavern mouth, kissed the ground, and wept.


	6. Homecoming Hero

**Homecoming Hero**

Amy Rose— with her mouth gagged and her hands bound together tightly lay on a stainless-steel table amidst the confines of a dingy laboratory. The room was dark, but a cone of cold, yellow light spilt onto the table from an overhead lamp suspended on a gimbal arm. On a tray nearby were arrayed the instruments of torture, knives, saws, and scalpels glinted in the dimness. A deeply tinted green window filled one wall; the rain poured against it and barely visible outside were the tall smokestacks belching clouds of noxious fumes that were ubiquitous in the Robotropolis skyline.

From a dark corner of the room, Sally watched the helpless pink hedgehog. Amy's eyes were wide with terror. Sweat and tears ran down her face in a steady stream, pooling on the table under her cheek. Sally tried to do something, anything to resist. She tried to raise her hands, but found herself paralyzed, unable to move. She couldn't even turn her head.

A short and rail thin figure appeared, silhouetted against the rain-lashed window. With slow steps accentuated by hollow echoes, he walked forward until the lamplight revealed his seamed face and scraggly hair. He wore a long, olive green buttoned at the shoulder and had a complicated array of lenses perched on his face. As he bent over Amy, the lenses turned opaque from the reflected light, and his pale lips parted in a mirthless grin, revealing a set of yellowing teeth. Amy Rose squeezed her eyes shut. A whimper escaped her mouth.

A door burst open and there Robotnik stood in his customary orange jumpsuit stretched taut over his enormous girth and a long yellow cape draped over his back. Snively lifted the lenses on his face looked up, smiled, and spoke with his customary nasally tone. "Ah, my eminence, you have returned. I was just getting things warmed up."

"Excellent work my nephew," Robotnik answered examining the bound hedgehog. "Here she is, helpless and in our power." Robotnik licked his dry lips and rubbed his fat pudgy fingers. " I think it's time we investigate the source of her power."

He bent over Amy again and ran a finger along her cheek. She trembled violently and made an inarticulate, high-pitched noise through the gag in her mouth. From under the table, he pulled an enormous, rusty chainsaw. Sally tried to yell, but couldn't open her mouth. She struggled, but something had pinned her arms and legs.

When Robotnik pulled the chainsaw's starter cord, the saw spun to life, its deafening motor producing a steady, rhythmic buzz. Straining with all her might, Sally shouted, "No! Nobody hurts my friends! Let her go!"

With a wide, toothy smile, the demented doctor brought the whirring blade down to Amy's forehead. The buzzing motor grew louder, more insistent. Sally thrashed and flailed— And found herself suspended in her hammock on her favourite tree and the buzz of the chainsaw resolved into the faint buzz of a fly by her ear which quickly zoomed off at the disturbance. With every hard heartbeat, her temples throbbed. The lab and the twisted visage of the two most evil men in all of Mobius had seemed so real, but they had been only a dream.

Overhead, the sun sat like a red blot on the horizon. With plenty of space in which to play in the Mobian sky, the clouds formed broad plains or tall, precarious towers that glowed pink and gold like still frame blossoms of fire. Fields of green and yellow grass bobbed in the faint breeze, and in the distance, silhouetted by the angry red light of the setting was a thick pillar of smog. This, Sally knew was where Robotropolis lay, shrouded in eternal darkness.

She felt her throat seize up and run bone dry even as cold sweat matted her body. She ran a hand down the rough bark of the walnut tree and into the picnic cooler suspended below. She ran a hand through a cold icy slush until her slender fingers found a bottle of sarsaparilla which she brought to her lips and drew a long sip from.

Twigs crunched on the ground behind her, but she didn't turn her head. She knew those footsteps.

"Hey, Sonic."

"Hiya, Sal." She felt the tree sway just a little as the blue hedgehog leaned against it. "Ya know, back when we were really small, we used to pretend this tree was a pirate ship. And way, way up was the crow's nest, and we argued over who was gonna be the lookout."

Sally put the bottle to her lips and swallowed until the sloshing liquid was half gone, and then she leaned over and handed it down to him. "You were eight," she said, "you were scared to climb that high. I said you wouldn't be a real pirate if you didn't get all the way to the top and I told you to keep going. So, you climbed higher, and then you slipped and fell."

"Slid all the way to the bottom and split my head on a root," Sonic confirmed

"I thought my heart had stopped beating."

"You carried me back to Doctor Quack, yelling for help. You sat in the car, held my hand and sobbed and told me you were sorry, and that you were going to fix everything, and that you'd never let me get hurt ever again."

Sally frowned. She rolled over onto her stomach and looked down at him. "I did?"

"Yep, you're always trying to take care of us," Sonic said, digging a gloved finger idly into the bark.

"I ... maybe I said that" she whispered. "Somebody had to look out for you."

Sonic laughed quietly. He tipped the rest of the contents into his mouth before he chucked the bottle toward the dense woods where it shattered amid the tangle of roots. "You've always been doing that, you know, trying to take care of everybody."

Sally rolled back over and turned her eyes to the sun again; it was halfway below the horizon now, looking like a molten puddle floating in a crucible. "Go ahead and say it Sonic."

Sonic ran his palm through the forest of quills at the back of his head. "Okay, look, Sal, I'm gonna tell you somethin. And I want you to promise me you'll keep it secret."

"Yeah, sure. What are you, five?"

After he finished, he watched Sally for a moment. "C'mon, Sal."

With a small sigh and a weak, indulgent smile, she said, "I swear upon my family motto: 'To rule with honour' that I won't spill the beans. There, you happy?"

He took a deep breath, looked down, licked his lips, and spread his hands as if laying them on a table. "Okay, here goes, it's stupid so don't get on my case."

"Get on with it, Sonic."

"Okay." He winced and glanced sheepishly at Sally. "I sort of have a crush on Amy"

She blinked a few times. "Sonic, I already knew that."

"What?"

"Yeah, it was obvious. Everyone knew it." Sal shook her head and waved a hand in the air. "Is that what this is about? Is that what has you so upset—?"

"Did you see them, the Mercian Freedom Fighters?" he asked.

"Yes, of course, I did. She saved them from the caves. How could I forget?"

"She won't be a little kid anymore. Not with her powers." Sonic protested stamping his red sneaker into the ground. "She'll be one of us, a Freedom Fighter. "

"Physically, she might be stronger than an ox and her abilities will likely only grow from there once she recovers. But I have my concerns. She looks up to you, you know. If she acts anything like you out there in the field we'll really be screwed."

Sonic slammed a fist into the tree trunk which trembled slightly at the weight of the blow. "I think maybe it's time for her to decide. Maybe it's time to let Amy make their own decisions."

Sally reached into her vest and ran her finger over the grooves of the Acorn family signet ring. Feeling pins and needles breaking out across her palms, she pried it from her vest pocket and watched the last sunrays glitter across its surface. "Do you remember the coup?" she asked

"Of course, I do, we were there remember? We all were."

"Don't you get it? I'm supposed to be the one bred to handle all this. I'm the one who was supposed to be looking out for her. And I took my eyes off her for a moment and then she was just gone!"

"It sounds like she did okay out there on her own."

"Haven't you heard, Mercia was destroyed."

Sonic shrugged, "You said it yourself, there's every chance Robotnik would have gotten there before us and –"

"Why does it matter?" Sally pondered, as she threw a limb over the thick bough, jumped off and landed hard on the ground. "Snottingham Castle, Hideaway village. All reduced to motes of dust and rubble. Their inhabitants scattered to the winds or roboticized!"

"I have a hard time believing anything could break the famed Rob O' Hedge."

"And I had a hard time believing anything could topple my dad, but something did."

"But we're still here," Sonic breathed. "That's gotta count for something."

The last glimmer of sunlight disappeared from the horizon, and the sky faded to deep purple. Venus shone brightly overhead. Sonic turned and trudged back toward his home, but he paused and looked over his shoulder. "Maybe you need to let her build something for themselves. You can't protect everyone. Not forever."

Sonic walked away and left her in the dark...

Amy rested in Sally's room. Playing in in front of her was her favourite movie while a large tub of soft-serve ice-cream sat in front of her. Yes, she had been given every material comfort she desired, save sleep she thought as she snuggled within her nest of quilted blankets. As her eyes started to droop, she found herself resting on the rough green tunic of cousin Rob O' Hedge.

"Hakuna Matata… What a wonderful phrase…Hakuna Matata… What a wonderful phrase…"

Rob sighed and clasped the back of his neck in apparent frustration "I don't really understand this story," he admitted. "I have seen the movie multiple times, but its meaning eludes me now."

"Here," Rob elaborated "we have the typical biblical tale of sibling rivalry, this I understand. It's the framing that bothers me. Here, is the ideal philosopher King that Plato describes. Yet, he allows the citizens to murder citizen under the auspices of the 'circle of life'. Also, the hyenas are a part of the 'circle of life', too, are they not? But here, the one attempting to bring them a meal is cast as 'villain'."

"Scar does betray the hyenas, though," Amy noted.

"Eventually, yes. But he is framed as villainous long before that. He's framed this way for killing a ruler who abused his apparent divine rights to oppress his people. But what I cannot reconcile is the drought. Am I to assume 'The-Kings-of-the-past' can manipulate the weather? And am I then to approve of their decision to punish those who had nothing to do with the coup?"

"It's symbolic," Amy said, trying to keep up with her cousin's flow of logic.

"Then why not show the bad things happening? Could they not think of actual consequences? The Lion King is a retelling of Hamlet, written for an audience who took the divine right of a king to be natural. An audience aware that the act of regicide was an affront not just to the ruling caste but to his realm. The audience understood that a usurper could indeed bring instability, famine and war. But in this adaptation, a drought makes no sense whatsoever."

"I think it's just a story to entertain kids," Amy said. "Teach them good morals and whatever."

"Ah, yes. They teach fighting oppression will result in getting torn apart by the very people you tried to rally and…" Rob paused when a loud crack Sally with Geoffrey in tow stepped into her home to find the leader of the Mercian Freedom Fighters with her ward.

"Rob?"

"Amy, I think that's lesson over for now. Let me help you to your feet then."

"I think I'm getting too old for this now" she confessed

"Nonsense, piggyback rides are like currency, best to accumulate as many as you can. " The hedgehog remarked before he wrapped his arms around the pink hedgehog and carried her.

"Aheem" Sally cleared her throat.

"Hello, Sally." He replied. "I trust that your period of physical recumbence after the battle was sufficiently rejuvenating."

"If you're asking whether I rested well, yes," Sally answered

"Excellent. Rest exists to enable us to resume vigorous activity, so mental rest is at the service of mental activity. Therefore, sleep is the balm of philosophers."

"I'm not a philosopher." Sally answered, "What is it you're doing in my bed?"

"I was certain you wouldn't find my presence intrusive" he mentioned.

"I don't, but I didn't expect to find you to drop in here unannounced."

"I've been mulling over some things, Sally and I've come to certain conclusions."

"But we're already fixing the problem. We've gotten better organized to fight against Robotnik. Have you reconsidered?"

"We would've left earlier, but I just had to see my cousin off" Rob replied, "Amy? Have you made up your mind? You know you are welcome to join us."

Tears ran down her face. "I don't really know," she said.

"Rob," Sally asked, "what's going on?"

"It's like this" Rob elaborated. "Out by the Southern Isle is floating Angel Island. It's home to the echidnas whose isolation has kept them out of Robotnik's machinations. Their guardian Knuckles has agreed to take in our people." he turned and smiled at Amy, whose eyes ran with tears. "I hope, too, that we're also taking our saviour along."

"Hold it," said Geoffrey St. John, moving to block the hedgehog. "You are taking fighters from my ranks. If they leave in this manner, they will be considered deserters."

"They were Mercians before they were your toy soldiers," Rob O' Hedge answered. "And Mercians stick together. You don't understand what we went through."

"I do," Geoffrey said. "I know." He nodded. "I too have lost family, but that doesn't—"

"And yet you cannot sympathize," Rob O' Hedge said" He looked around at the rest of his fellow Mercians, "Go ahead and build your little empire here. We'll build our own somewhere else."

Geoffrey's mouth worked as if he were trying to formulate words, but made no further sound of protest. The Mercian Freedom Fighters, one by one, walked to Amy Rose. Each one of them expressing their sincerest gratitude.

"We wanteth thee to cometh," Thorn the Lop said.

"It won't be quite right without thee," said Friar Buck.

"Whatever you choose," said Rob O' Hedge "know that you will always be special to us."

Amy, eyes glistening, looked around at all of them. She almost choked as she said, "Oh, I wish we could all be together forever, but . . . I can't.

"You brought my family together. But it will still be incomplete without you. "The Mercians will look to me for guidance, but I look to you. Come with me and you'll lead by my side."

Amy chuckled. "No, Cousin Rob. I belong here with Sally, Sonic and the others."

"Haply we'll visit," Bow Sparrow said," I can flyeth very much, very much far, so even though our new home beest very much far hence, I bet I can cometh to seeth thee."

"You'll be welcome if you do," Amy replied. "I'm going to take up baking, so if you come back, you'll get an apple pie."

Just then, a female echidna by the name of Mari-An stepped in to interrupt "The transport to Angel Island will arrive anytime now. We must be heading off soon."

"We must go!" Rob cried "Mercians rally to me: it is time to seek freedom once more!". Sparing a few sidelong glances, the Mercians turned to depart.

In Sally's room, all was silent for several minutes.

"But I can sympathize," Geoffrey murmured. "I really can."

Feeling somewhat in a daze, Sally spoke with Rob O' Hedge for a time. They thanked her for the help in tending their wounded and in turn offered advice on how to spruce up Knothole's camouflage from prying eyes. Sally bade them farewell, thanked them dully and shook hands all around before the Mercians finally made their departure.

* * *

Upon returning home and finding Amy unable to sleep, Sally took her by the hand and together they lay in the midst of a patch of feathery ferns in the middle of the woods. Above the sky was dark and overcast, with only a few windows through which a sea of glittering stars, the expanse of heaven could be seen. The air was warm, but every so often, a faint breeze, cooled by the moisture of the forest floor, prickled her skin.

Sally was the first to speak up "I just wanted to apologize that in all that excitement I never really noticed how you were feeling."

"Will you hate me?" Amy asked.

"Never." She confirmed.

"I think I know what it was like to be you. Cousin said you rode in on a dragon and charged headlong into battle with the Sword of Acorns"

Sally chuckled quietly. "I think Rob was embellishing the story. No offence but Dulcy can hardly fly."

"And I saw Robotnik again, just as he arrived and chased us off," Amy whispered. "I knew how you felt... it was so different from how I normally felt. When I was there in front of him, I didn't care about doing the right thing. I was just angry."She blinked, and the tears spilt over onto her cheeks. "I was like that once, just that I was so angry that I could kill and . . ."

"Shush, Amy" Sally tilted her head back, letting the soft moss close around her ears "You did the right thing."

"But The Marshal died, and he died because I pushed him—"

Sally gripped the sides of Amy's head, "He deserved to die."


End file.
